


Boots

by anathemafen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable and awkward that is, Elves in boots, Like cats in boots, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemafen/pseuds/anathemafen
Summary: Lavellan has never worn boots - Cullen and Dorian find it immensely amusing when he puts some on. Solas makes himself sparse.





	Boots

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comic drawn by Vinnie Cha: http://vinnie-cha.tumblr.com/tagged/vinnie+draws+dragon-age 
> 
> (Posted too soon - made some edits, sorry~~)

Cullen’s shoulders shook with another bout of laughter, his large frame bent in half as he leaned his hands against his knees, doubled over with mirth. Dorian was faring no better, though he had at least managed to remain upright. 

Lavellan stood ten feet away from them baring his teeth into a growl, arms crossed atop his chest and ears twitching irritably. 

Instead of the elven foot wraps he usually wore, a pair of leather boots were laced up his calves. Whenever he tried to walk in them though, he felt like a mare with a loose shoe, a cat with wet paws. His legs would go up but when his boots came down they just didn’t connect with the ground like his feet used to. _Like they should._

He had fallen nearly five times and with each successive ‘hmph’ and a bump to his arse Cullen and Dorian had broken into laughter. It had been polite at first, a small quirk of their lips before Dorian would help him up with a wink and a word of encouragement. But that had soon devolved into the teary-eyed messes they now were.

“Oh for – just walk _normally_ , Amatus!” Dorian called for the tenth time trying and failing to maintain his composure, a broad grin lighting up his face. Lavellan would have been delighted to see it under any other circumstance, but _Void_ was he frustrated.

“I don’t - I can’t!” he gestured furiously at the wretched traps that had encased him, reduced him to the frozen state he was in, betrayed by his own feet. 

He had been confused at first when Dorian had ushered everyone out, when Varric had snickered behind his hand murmuring something about “Daisy” and “fire" and "Hawke’s hair” before the dwarf had paused, gave him a considering look and disappeared somewhere into the keep.

Lavellan certainly felt like setting _something_ on fire right now, preferably the foot-traps he had allowed himself to be strapped into.

_You cannot walk in the snow in bare feet, Inquisitor. You already broke six of your toes, Inquisitor. Blah, blah, blah, Inquisitor._

“Oh Maker, I’m sorry, we don’t mean to laugh at you,” Cullen told him but the grin lighting up his face said otherwise. Lavellan couldn’t help the small huff that escaped him seeing how bright Cullen's eyes were and the laugh he knew was just bubbling under his skin. It was good to see him happy, his skin flushed giving him a healthy glow and replacing its usual pallor.

“Come now, try again,” Dorian motioned with mirth still colouring his features. They were being generous, he knew, not running to retrieve any of their other companions. _Come see Inquisitor Lavellan learning to walk again!_ He felt like a newborn Halla on too long legs with too little balance.

With a deep breath Lavellan glared down at the soft leather boots as if warning them not to let him falter for the sixth time that day. Then, he raised one off the ground, too high, set it down in front of him, too far, before raising the other and doing the same. It was stilted, ridiculous and he knew he was marching more than walking, but he _had_ managed not to tumble.

He looked up at his companions in triumph before a snort escaped Dorian sending Cullen into another attack of shaking shoulders and rich, rumbling laughter.

Inquisitor Lavellan, in all his might and glory, threw his hands up into the air and let out an indignant squeak.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen managed between laughs, “I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just walk normally!” Dorian exclaimed raising his hand as if it truly were a mystery. And if Lavellan did not love the man so fiercely, he might have set his perfectly manicured moustache on fire. The courtyard echoed with their whooping laughter.

“I’m _trying_ to walk normally, _vhenan_ , it’s just not,” he growled, ears flattened in annoyance and kicked out a foot wagging the offending boot at him. _Vile contraption._

“Yes, yes. Perhaps Sera could give you some tips?” Dorian suggested drolly and Lavellan gave him a look that would make a druffalo back-track.

Grumbling he knelt down and began crawling towards them, fingers digging up fresh earth, dew soaking through to his knees.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen cursed and recoiled as he came upon them with inhuman speed. Muddied hands reached up to pull them down, easy targets weak from laughter and he delivered a swift swat to each of their heads before crumpling into a miserable heap.

The door creaked as it opened, slamming shut of its own accord and Lavellan sat up when a familiar voice questioned, “I was told I was needed?”

Solas was standing on the edge of the courtyard peering at them curiously. His eyes widened slightly as he absorbed the pathetic mess that was Lavellan, twitching ears and captured feet. A smudge of dirt had found its way to his cheek and when he looked up with a grimace and mouthed “run” Solas did not need to be told twice.


End file.
